


Sunday

by SparksInTheNight



Category: Original Work
Genre: A little, Abusive Workplace, Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Celebrations, Children, Class Differences, Class Issues, Collectivism, Community - Freeform, Community as Family, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cults, Dark, Dictatorships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Festivals, Fictional Religion & Theology, Fictional World, Fluff and Angst, Forests, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inequality, Morning Cuddles, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Oppression, Other, Past Sexual Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Prayer, Rebellion, Resistance, Secrets, Sexual Harassment, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry, Sleepy Cuddles, Small Acts of Resistance, Sneaking Around, Storytelling, Summer, Surveillance, Teenagers, Toddlers, Worldbuilding, city, fictional culture, implied at least - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparksInTheNight/pseuds/SparksInTheNight
Summary: Milahi Imiko loves her family. She loves her community. She loves her people. She works hard at the cafe six days a week. They don't have much. But they have each other. They make sure they have each other no matter what. And that's strength.She's blessed as much as she's cursed.As much as the Lords and Ladies have every piece of her, they don't have her soul.Monday through Saturday are days for misery.Sundays are days for joy.  For rebellion. For hope.———This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s) & Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) & Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Kudos: 1





	Sunday

Milahi Imiko finished sweeping and polishing the floor of the cafe, finally. The place was so large and the rose gold marble floors had to be kept pristine at all times. That meant it had to be swept and polished many times while the Lords and Ladies were here. It also meant that it had to be swept down and polished before closing. It was a thankless job. Especially during the day when she would get harassment from the patrons. She sighed. She locked the door and made her way down the streets lit with cold gray street lamps. This was one of the poshest districts of the town, with the offices of the Lords stretching up into the sky and bridges arcing and curving everywhere. She hated it.

She reached the bus stop, and stopped beside it. She stood in the brisk air, still in her low-cut satin uniform of pastel blue. It was cold. She was bone tired in every single fibre of her being. She made no sound. When the bus pulled up, she smiled warmly and sadly at the driver, a man of about thirty years old with soft eyes and a caring expression. She said hello, thanked him for driving her home, and after a bit of conversation she silently stood near the back of the bus. On the outside the bus was really rather beautiful, in order to blend seamlessly into the district. But on the inside it was crowded, dirty, and devoid of seats.

She smiled at the people around her. They smiled at her back. It was almost twelve and even at this ungodly hour so many were going home. They were tired like her. Conversation susurrated around her, low enough that the cameras didn't pick it up. Low enough to provide the illusion of meekness.

The bus made its way through the large, vast expanse of the Lords district. After a while it reached the edges of the district, where the commoners' neighbourhoods were. Spread out around the edges of the city there were small neighbourhoods that the few thousand regular people lived in. The neighbourhoods only had a few dozen huts in them, and each neighbourhood was far from the others. This way, it was near impossible for the different neighbourhoods to organize in a coordinated, unified way. Soon the bus stopped near Milahi's neighbourhood and she stepped down, bidding the driver goodnight and good luck and see you later. She took in the run-down concrete single-room huts around her. Most of them were in various states of disrepair. It was home. And she loved it. And she hated it.

She glided down the streets as mute as a ghost until she stepped into the doorway of her hut. Inside, her three children were already asleep, curled against each other on the floor. Her wife had already tucked them in it seemed. She let her eyes hold onto them for a moment before she did what she had to do. She walked over to the shrine in the corner of the room, over the hearth. She bowed her head before the coloured photograph of the Lord of Lords, under his hard, angry piercing eyes. She clasped her hands into prayer so that the video camera nestled inside the plastic flowers draped around the frame would see her as the devoted servant she wasn't.

"Thank you, Lord of Lords, Great Alexandre Dumonte, for the gift of life that you bestow upon us. In return may I devote my life in service to you and your eternal glory." She finished her prayer and slipped herself out of her work clothes and into the rags that she wore at home. She thought about how much she hated Dumonte. He was a man, just a man. He was born. He could die. He hadn't yet. He had an incredible amount of wealth. An incredible amount of power. In their town he asserted himself as a god. But he was not a god. Not at all. Thankfully tomorrow was Sunday.

She lay down beside her second youngest, Aliya. The child cuddled into her mother in her sleep. It was so cute. Milahi reached a hand over to rest it on her youngest daughter's arm. Kiana was a mere toddler. Two years old and too young for this cruel world. In the silence of her heart Milahi whispered a prayer to the real gods. Please keep my baby safe and help her grow into a kind, selfless woman who has confidence in herself and love for her people, who is brave in standing up for what's right and empathetic in her treatment of others. She moved her hand to brush against the hair of her oldest daughter, Safia. At seven she carried herself like she was much older but Milahi knew that underneath the repression that came with being forced to grow up too fast, the child was young and vulnerable and needed love. Milahi spoke a prayer for her, in the silence of her heart. Please let Safia grow up strong and free. May she be humble and loving in how she serves her fellow peasants and may she be bold and freethinking in how she defies the Lords. May she never loose sight of her hope. Finally she brushed the hair of her middle daughter, Aliyah. The five year old was too outspoken and it worried her. Please may Aliyah stay safe in her life. But may she never loose her spark, her rebelliousness, her passion. May she never lose the belief that she can make things better. May she find freedom, community, and love. She blanketed her arm over all of them.

Before going to sleep she sent a prayer on behalf of their birth parents. She didn't know where they were. But she hoped that they were doing alright. She remembered, back when she worked as a servant in the Lords district, her friends from other houses would come with tears in their eyes and no desire to raise their abusers' babies, and no access to ways of terminating those pregnancies, and no desire to see their babies harmed. She understood what it was like to feel unwanted hands all over your body and have no way to get them off without losing your job. She understood what it was like to grow up unwanted. Her wife Mishi back at home promised to raise the children as best as she could, to love them as much as it was possible to love someone. She was so grateful to Mishi. And to her community for coming together to support the kids. Her and Mishi had made a promise to those two teenaged girls and one boy. That they would raise their children to be happy, and healthy, and strong, and kind and loved and confident and thoughtful. As much as was possible in this impossible world. 

She intended to follow through.

———

When Milahi awoke the sun's rays were already brightly shining through the open window.

"Mama!" Kiana exclaimed, running to Milahi and falling on top of her in a haphazard sort of hug.

"Mama is awake! Yay! Mama I missed you!" Aliya joined the hug. Milahi revelled for a moment in the pure happiness that came with holding her children close.

"Safia, you're not too old for hugs. Get over here!" Safia smiled warmly, before walking to join them. Milahi gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"You're still my baby."

"I know."

"You all are."

Milahi quickly ate her share of breakfast, the heapings of bread that wasn't really stale yet and fruits that weren't really brown yet that always gave Sundays a rich feeling. Before she had a chance to dry her bowl, she felt Kiana tugging on the hem of her shirt.

"Mama. You. We will _go._ To the -"

"Yes Kiki!" Safia cut in "We will! And it will be fun!"

Milahi hated that children too young to tie their shoelaces had to watch their mouths in their own house.

"Mommy said we'll be out all day! With Cassa and Tom and Luki and all our friends!" Aliya exlaimed loudly.

"Welll it's a Sunday after all, isn't it?"

"Sunnay. Kiki. Love. Sunnay!" She smiled brightly.

"Aww I love that you love it. I love that you're happy."

"I like Sunday too. It's so boring all week with you and Mommy and all the aunts and uncles at work." Safia patted my cheek.

"I only like Sunday. Just Sunday. All the other days are bad," Aliya huffed.

"Aliya you can say this later -" Safia was ever the pragmatist.

"No! You always say that. I don't like days and I don't like you saying Aliya be quiet be quiet!"

"I say it to keep you safe Ali!"

"I'm still mad!"

"It's not my fault!"

"Children, children. Let's go outside!" Milahi carried Kiana as the other two children trailed behind her. The summer morning was thankfully warm.

"My babies," Milahi said once they got a safe distance from the camera, "you both love each other. Aliya, Safia is sad that you can't say what you want. She wants you to be able to say what you want. She wants you to be free. But if the bad guys hear you they'll hurt you. She doesn't want that to happen. Safia, Aliya isn't mad at you. She loves you. She's mad that she has to keep her thoughts to herself sometimes and can't be truthful. She just had a hard time expressing that. She's small."

"I'm sorry Ali."

"It's okay. Me too."

"Should we go check what Mommy is doing?"

"Sure."

"Yeah!"

The young family walked down the narrow streets. They were dirty and uneven as they always were. But they were met with families from all over the community all coming out of their homes and greeting each other and talking. Milahi soaked in the festive atmosphere. Today was Sunday. Today was their day. She greeted and hugged and played with the children of the neighbours. She joked around with her friends. She smiled at the way the sun shone on the dark hair of the women and sparkled in the dark eyelashes of the children.

"Aunt Milahi! Yesterday I lost my tooth!" Little Maion smiled at her.

"Mila. I think Aresh is going to propose soon." Lila whispered.

"Mila you're so reserved these days. What happened to the boisterous little girl I knew?" Uncle Maresh ran a hand through her hair.

"Aunt Milahi my brother hasn't asked his crush out yet." Jilli said exasperatedly.

But of course there was the more heavy parts of the conversation. There always were. There were heavy parts of life.

"Aunt Milahi I miss my dad," Bria sighed.

"Aunt Milahi I will have to move sooo soon. I'll miss you." Akio gripped her hand.

"Mila my wife god laid off. I don't know how we'll keep feeding our kids." Amniko looked worriedly at the sky.

"Mila I hate my job so much. They say oh it's just easy but it's not." Aisha didn't sound frustrated. Just broken.

But soon enough they reached the edge of the fence that parted the neighbourhood from the Forest. The Forest that was forbidden.

The Forest was fenced off with a high chain linked fence topped with barbed wire. It was impossible to access, unless you has no qualms about ripping your arms and legs in barbed wire and falling to your death. That didn't change the fact that sometimes people saw human footsteps in its soft soil. That was a hopeful sign.

There was however a long clearing before the fence, where everyone could sit on the overgrown grass. This was where the whole community got together during the summer Sundays when the weather allowed for it. When there were no cameras.

The hundred or so people that were here today found seats.

Milahi sat alongside her wife Mishi. She had Kiana in her arms and Mishi had Amako in her arms, another toddler that Kiani was good friends with. They laughed and played with each other in the strange way that toddlers do. Around them Aliya, Safia, Aveno, Jillia, and Hakomo talked and played.

"Mihali?" The soft voice of her kind, serious wife asked.

"Yes?" 

"Now that they can't hear us, tell me. So you think we'll be free one day?"

"The logical part of me says they have guns and tanks and more power than us. But my heart says that we will. How about you Mishi? What do you think?"

"I think they underestimate us. By a lot. That's the advantage that we have. We can work together. We can coordinate with each other. We have hope and strength and bravery and resilience. The type that comes from having a community. They don't know that. And they never will. That's a pretty huge advantage."

"You're right. Tell everyone this."

"If I get a chance to lol. You know how much Jillia talks everyone's ear off," she joked. They exchanged a laugh.

"Aunt Mishi!" Speak of the devil.

"Yes Jill-Jill?"

"I saw a robin redbreast. Do you think it was Kanamio?"

"I think so girl child."

"K. So like, guys!" Avenoni called the meeting to order, since it was their turn to do so, "should we start with like a story, or with ideas?"

Most of the people shouted that they wanted a story.

"K right so story it is then," the teenager said. "Does like, does anyone have ideas for which one?"

The crowd hummed with life. Safia, Aveno and Aliya had wandered off at this point but Jill-Jill and Hakomo sat leaning on their aunts. Well they weren't really related. But everyone was family in this neighbourhood, and among different neighbourhoods too.

"Saipel! Saipel! Saipel!" Kiana chanted.

"Yeah!" Aveno chimed in, "an the wadel."

"So you guys want the story of the spider and the water?" Jill-Jill asked.

"Yeah!" Amako cheered.

"I'll ask. We'll see if it gets voted for." 

On Sundays life was almost worth living. Her heart was almost almost cleansed of the worst of her grief.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the story check my out on Twitter my handle is @FSairuv and I post about human rights and social justice.


End file.
